


Strings

by dolface



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Quickies, Smut, cophine - Freeform, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolface/pseuds/dolface
Summary: The unresolved sexual tension between Cosima and Delphine on the island comes to a...(cough) climax.Just fillin in the blanks where all the sex should be. Bc, hello, they waited like a million seasons for that shit. :)





	1. Of Puppets

The last week - hell the last 3 months - had been like the high string of a violin, singled out and vibrating until it breaks. And then, there she was, the rock Cosima always broke over. Delphine like a dream. Delphine, impossibly near and reeling her back in.  
“I won’t let you. I won’t let you.”  
In her arms, where Cosima had always pushed and fought and warned and raged, now she could only lie. Dying and then, somehow, recovering. It only took a few days - a countable amount of hours - but to Cosima it was a sort of infinite pool. The broken fibers of her waking mind only thought “she’s here,” and it was enough. 

But recovered she had. Robustly, days ago. She had barely seen Delphine, and when she had it was torture made just bearable by the amount of touching medical attention required. Medical only. Sure, she could see the tense knots in Delphine’s face and posture, but she did not care what made those knots. Only that Delphine was not hers - after she had survived so long just to find her again - here she was, and Cosima could reach out, but not take her. It was wrong. Like some fucked up practical joke of the universe shit. As much as she admitted she was beginning to act out like a child, her desperation to devour Delphine overwhelmed more than any shadowy danger lurking outside the musty hut. 

She paced and twisted her rings. Delphine would knock meekly before invading, but shit, Cosima could see. She could see the hunger, under layers of fear and anxiety and...timidity (!), but it was glinting there for her. How was it possible that they could not shut this fucking nightmare out for one good fucking fuck? She would starve today if they did not get their hands on one another. If she was a betting woman - and she sure as shit was - she would bet Delphine was just as ravenous. They would either starve or rip one another limb from limb. 

Though, Delphine herself was beginning to infuriate Cosima. Maybe it was just the sexual tension, but how could she ignore the obvious lie (“I have just arrived”) and the evasive non-answers to her mounting questions? Cosima was trapped here, blindly “following (more like fumbling for) the science” when all she wanted was to break Delphine open until she couldn’t speak English anymore. She would not beg...not yet. 

Running her thumbs down Delphine’s ribs to her hip bones, smoothing the scar, she felt her shudder. But how could she know if it was horror or lust that shook her? Hell, she wasn’t even sure which her own mind was struggling hardest to process. 

“You didn’t think it would be there.” 

How could she explain the disbelief? I didn’t think you would be here. You died. You were nowhere. 

“Delphine, I need something to hold on to.” 

And then the moment was unceremoniously breached. The puppet master yanking her doll from her. Cosima felt her heart turn into a knife she would hold against those strings. 

“I’m going, too.” Try and fucking stop me.


	2. and Puppeteers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adult dress-up: always a good time.

Delphine was terrified and Cosima should have been, as well. But she couldn’t muster even a shiver. She wrapped Delphine’s icy hand in hers and led her up the grandiose steps to Chateau d’Westmoreland. Delphine’s slight weight dragged like a downed kite. She could almost feel the woman begging her to slow down, think, be careful. But she would not. 

She was losing her last strands of cool when Westmoreland’s man commanded they dress up. More puppeteer bullshit. But just as she was about to roar, Delphine’s fingers slid under her coat and found the skin at the small of her back. It was almost nothing, but it stalled her fury just long enough for the servant to shut the door and leave them to dress. She spun on Delphine. 

“If he expects us to play dress up for him…”

But Delphine refused to take the bait. Cosima couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Delphine baiting her. She had always been good at that. Just a certain look held a certain length of time, then dropped. She picked out a dress. Cosima sighed, spotted an ancient tux. 

“Oh. hell. Yes.”

She would dress up. But not for him. 

When she turned around, tucked and tailored well enough, there was no mistaking Delphine’s look. Come here.

Cosima closed the gap between them, sweeping the taller woman into a kiss the way only she could. Their bodies like magnets, like animals, like women walking toward death, they handled one another possessively. Scraping, biting, sucking, tugging, until Cosima bent for her skirts and Delphine turned to lean over the high bed. Without removing her pants, she yanked Delphine’s ass against her clit, pounding out something kin enough to a rhythm. Delphine gasped - almost a sob - as Cosima’s hand found her cunt, already wet and swollen. She covered Cosima’s heavy rings with her own fingers and desperately pushed her further inside. Their breath came out like horsehair bows drug against fat textured strings. Rough and greedy. All Delphine could think was that she had no idea how she had lasted this long intact, so empty. 

The two women came hard and fast. First Cosima, bucking against Delphine’s ass as she pushed back and dropped at all the right moments. Cosima shoving her fingers completely inside Delphine as tight as she had ever felt her. Feeling Delphine buckle until she was holding her up. She braced Delphine fully against her, barring her free arm between her breasts and squeezing gently at the very base of her perfect throat.  
She could feel the pulse.  
The bounce of her tits.  
The gulps and moans.  
She buried her face under Delphines clenched jaw, biting, and trying not to bite as hard as she needed to stifle her screams. 

Delphine’s back arched so hard she was splayed open with her head thrown against Cosima’s shoulder, one hand against the bed for leverage, the other white knuckling Cosima’s wrist against her clit. She could feel the come soaking her thighs. Cosima’s hand fucking her in long, sucking strokes that slid almost too far out before pushing almost too far in. Her legs useless, knees digging into the iron bed frame. And then, her eyes gently crossed as the dimly lit room turned bright white. She wanted to scream for Cosima, for god - she tried, but all that came was a torn out cry. Of relief, of anguish kept in too long. 

They held one another as they tried to cool the liquid fire squeezing air and blood through their bodies at dizzying speeds. Cosima took great gulping inhales of the skin and hair that seemed to be expelling scent like herbs crushed in a palm. Delphine could feel nothing but Cosima’s arm still belted across her torso. She clung to it, letting her vision return slowly. Like rising from a reckless dive.

They heard the footsteps in the hall. Cosima released Delphine’s skirts and took one last deep breath. Delphine could not bear to be let go and tightened her grip on Cosima’s hand until the last second when they both twirled resolutely to face the opening doors.


	3. Snapping Strings

Delphine begged Cosima with her eyes to calm down, sit down before she was chucked in the basement herself. But her mouth belied every jolt of pleasure she got from Cosima’s biting wit - what Aldous had once termed “cheeky” she always recognized as dazzling bravery. This woman, whose fate was so fragile that Delphine had to devote every waking moment to protecting her, backed down from no power. And she couldn’t help the crackling gunpowder heat every time Cosima steeled herself with a glance her direction. How could she stop her? Cosima blazed this bright for her. 

Her heart snapped back into place as Westmoreland dug his hooks in. 

“Delphine tells me…”

She forced herself to take in Cosima’s face, the shift from electricity to betrayal. That was a worn out look. As sure as she was of her actions, she was not sure she could withstand to see the effects yet again. Her eye contact faltered, Cosima shut her out. She knew it would be warranted if she was never let back in. She knew she had no choice. 

Westmoreland twitched their strings one last time. 

“Delphine, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

She nearly toppled her chair. They were being dismissed...freed. Her daring flame had not burned the house down with them trapped inside. She still had time - just enough - to finish the work she began the day she pleaded with Cosima to trust her, to forgive her. 

Cosima tore down the hallway, barely waiting to get the dressing room door open before blasting Delphine. 

“How could you?”

The exact reversal of the carnivorous energy between them before dinner completely lost on her, until Delphine began yanking at her dress so violently she almost took her bra off with it. As indignant as she felt, Delphine’s panic - scratch that - Delphine’s iridescent skin, her breasts barely covered by creamy lace, the ends of her curls brushing her bare collarbones as she stripped, brought her up short.

“Please, please, trust me.”

How could she? How could she not? Delphine would not demand her trust, only request it with eyes shining wide, panting and fumbling to become naked as fast as possible. She forced Cosima’s hand to her bare chest with thud. 

“Remember?” 

She could feel Delphine holding her breath. 

Cosima’s vision doubled, then tripled with every moment this one was duplicating. Her own confusion and doubt, Delphine’s quiet request and promise. 

Delphine was hers. They belonged to no one but each other. Mirrored reiterations of this moment swirled as their mouths found one another. Delphine above, below, at her back, and going ahead. All she asked was the strength to trust her a little longer. 

Then Delphine was on her knees, slowly towing the starched fabric down Cosima’s legs.  
Pushing her nose against her underwear, then her teeth. Moaning into the cloth as she squeezed Cosima’s ass, dragging that last layer off with her mouth. Licking her way back up Cosima’s thighs, through her folds. Lathing her clit with a broad tongue until Cosima stumbled to a chair with her hands buried in the crown of Delphine’s hair. Delphine pulled her by the hips harder into her mouth, sucking her clit til it swelled, then relieving it with her tongue. When Cosima began to whimper, Delphine lifted first one thigh, then the other over her shoulders to deepen their union, rising up for more leverage while running her hands up Cosima’s bare spine, lifting and pulling her against her tongue and teeth, bending her whimpers into gasps. 

She remembered every last time. 

Cosima’s heels dug into her shoulder blades as her back arched and toes pointed. Delphine could feel her cunt throbbing in her mouth as the come ran down her chin. She anchored Cosima to her, her hands gripping the curve at the top of her ass, longing for one glimpse up the plane of her body, but Cosima had her braced too tightly. She focused on the image in her mind as she fucked her to pieces. All the old curses rolling off Cosima’s tongue as the slippery sounds of come fused with those of the chair bumping against the wall, sharp and savage. 

Delphine rested her forehead against the dewy mound of Cosima’s pussy, composing her quivering limbs. Breathing deeply and not letting any of the next moments invade this one just yet. She had to get up, get on a helicopter with Rachel, go to Geneva. But in this second, she tried to reclaim all the seconds they had been denied.

She willed it not to be their last.


End file.
